content: modern au, sfw, childhood best friends, dyanna mention <3, lowkey mutual obsession, fuck boy aerion mention, smoking, eventual kissing, discussion of you two pining over one another for literal years, reader wears heels but otherwise there’s no exact description of being a woman.
author’s note: i meant to write a short drabble with the intention of responding to the prompt “don’t kiss me like that if you’re going to pretend it didn’t happen” and then got a little carried away. now i’m thinking of modern!aerion with childhood best friend!reader. if you guys want more of this verse or think of anything, please lmk. i want all of your thoughts. inbox open!
word count: 2.5k
You’ve known one another for as long as you both could remember, to the point that nobody can recall a time where the other wasn’t there. There’s photographs dating as far back as you both being seven years old, Aerion whispering something into your ear as you laugh. It’s tucked into some photo album that his mother had put together of her three eldest children, made between late nights of caring for her little dragons.
Neither of you recall the photograph being taken. Your eyes had been crinkled in the corners, nearly shut entirely with your body facing the months-younger boy and he was looking right at you. Violet eyes bright in a way that seems entirely improbable for who he was now, every part of his body was angled toward you in a way that spoke of a deep connection. He was watching you even then with a smile that was half visible behind one hand, pinky-to-wrist smushed against the side of your cheek.
Any photo that exists of you two together from age seven to today makes one thing very apparent: Aerion never truly looks away from you. Or, a more accurate statement; you two never stop orbiting one another.
Even at age 17, where magazines covering the latest gossip share about how Aerion Targaryen—second son to one of the most terrifying defense lawyers in the entirety of Westeros—has been caught at another late night party he had no business attending or seen in another fight with some lesser rich kid who will pointedly avoid any question regarding the rumors for the rest of their life.
Paparazzi snap pictures of Aerion with a new girl hanging off his arm every week by age 18, spreading it to every source that will share it publicly. At some point near age nineteen it stops becoming a huge scandal and more of a routine that impresses nobody.
Unless it’s photos of you. Although the average mom won’t bat an eye at yet another photo of you two together, the internet is a different story.
Nobody asks “how do you know one another?” anymore. They haven’t for a very, very long time. Instead, the questions have turned into “do you think they’re secretly together?” and “if they don’t get together true love is DEAD. why aren’t they MARRIED yet?”.
Everyone with a set of eyes can see it. The chemistry between you two is hotter than a dragon’s fire and more than once has something been said about how you’re both attached at the hip. Literally and figuratively, depending on the time.
Mixers were somewhat common for those with more money than they knew what to do with. Three hours of people flaunting the amount of zeros in their bank accounts while draped in finery, plastering smiles onto their lips that were akin to a predator’s looking for weak points to later use. Nobody sane truly enjoyed them, but they all went anyway. Being absent from such an event was its own sort of poor decision, one of which would be gossiped about for a week until something juicier came to light.
You attended, because of course you did. Your parents were there, siblings too. Certain statuses were meant to be upheld and you played your part, no matter how bored you might be.
The Targaryens were expected to make their appearance roughly five minutes from now, which meant that Aerion would be here in thirty. Just enough time for his family to mingle with the crowd, earn some questions of “oh, and where is your second boy?” that would have Maekar scowling and Baelor easily guiding the conversation into something new, and then be considered “fashionably late”. He wouldn’t have showed up at all, if not for you.
Strutting into the expensive event space with some new, pretty thing hanging off his arm and looking far too bright for a man as dark as he, Aerion made his entrance. Nobody directly approached him, but they all greeted him with forced politeness that he replied to with a sharp glance or nothing at all. Everyone had learned early on that he was not a kind man and to try initiating with him directly always wound up in sharp words tearing into their hearts.
Of course, there was some leeway with you. By no means were you an exception to this wordless understanding that everyone had.
However.
When you two made eye contact across the room, the smallest tilt of your head was offered in greeting and something flashed behind Aerion’s eyes. It was nothing that someone could spot, if not for you. You were in the midst of a conversation with some young man who was interested in what your family could offer if he were to capture your heart, so he was attempting to do just that. Charming smiles, warm words that were hollow at the end of it all, and the occasional brush of fingers against yours, all of which you permitted. Not forced yourself into, but allowed because you knew how much playing along was required of you.
Seven Minutes.
Seven minutes passed before you were being interrupted in your conversation with this man you barely remembered the name of. That was exactly how long it took for Aerion to discard the girl on his arm, lazily placating her with a “get yourself a drink n’ have fun”, and then shut down the conversation with this audacious man. He doesn’t even say anything, he just looks at the man with a glare that would make someone drop dead if he had the ability to, and watches as he scrambles off.
“Only one cherry? How disappointing.” There is no formal greeting between you two. Instead, Aerion is pressing a drink into one of your hands and you take it, glass clinking against the rings you chose to adorn your fingers with this evening. You comment on the fact that there’s only one cherry instead of the usual two or three in your drink and it makes an almost-laugh come from the Targaryen. It’s breathy, coming through his nose and one corner of his lips turning upward into something that could be a smile if he tried a little more.
“You’ll survive.” Aerion’s voice is almost flat, save for the undertone of amusement in the back of his throat that most would overlook. You don’t. You kick his expensive loafer with an equally pricey high heel adorning your own. He grins properly, silver hoops littering his ear shining under the dim lighting of the event space, “Ouch.”
The one word of acknowledgment is full of amusement now. You click your tongue in faux annoyance and then shift your stance a little.
Both of you settle into the familiar rhythm of going back and forth, speaking on the conversations you overheard and Aerion listening with a bored expression that conceals the way he’s not taken his eyes off of you since he walked into the room. Your bodies are close enough that most would suspect a relationship if either of you were not who you were. Instead, they do not bat an eye.
One arm is draped on the railing behind you two, thumb just barely touching your upper arm and his whole body is angled toward you, just like that photograph when you were seven. He’s occasionally sipping his own drink with the other hand, right leg pressing into your left as you almost tuck yourself into his side. It’s a familiar stance you two have partaken in so many times before that it’s natural.
“It’s been well over an hour. Shouldn’t you go find your little model?” You inquire about the woman out of politeness more than actual care for her. This isn’t the first time he’s brought someone to a mixer for show, just to abandon them in exchange for you.
“She’s fine. I saw her batting those fake lashes of hers at Baratheon fifteen minutes ago.” Aerion says it as if that means the entirety of the girl he’d brought to this mixer is a problem already solved. It is, in a way. He doesn’t bring people of any real importance to his life here. He selects those that he can get away with ditching if they bore him or, more likely, if you want to leave earlier than the rest of your family.
The rest of the Targaryen household approaches you both slowly, making their rounds through the room and finding you two last. They already know where you guys are going to be and do not rush to greet you.
Aerion watches his family greet you with a mild sneer that stays on his face until they’re gone again. It’s the only way that he can cover up the way it warms him, digging up some traitorous part of his heart which beats only for you. Truthfully, it has been beating for you alone for longer than he has known it not to. He will not address it.
It takes forty-five minutes for everyone to say their “hello”s and “how are you?”s like you weren’t over at their house two days ago, helping the youngest do homework like it was your job to. Daella had texted you her assignment, asking for help on a specific question, and you stopped by. You said you were in the area when she asked why you came over. You were not, but she didn’t have to know that.
Nobody else gets to interact with Aerion’s family, not the way you do. Whatever pick of poison he makes each night will never get a greeting from his family, all of whom actually intend on coming to at least acknowledge your presence. You are part of the family in a way that the others can only dream of.
Free from everyone but Aerion in your immediate vicinity once again, you finish your drink. You set it down on the nearby table, twisting your upper torso to do it without moving away from the short haired Targaryen.
“My car’s parked out front.” No question of “are you ready to go?” or “do you want to leave soon?”, just the statement that spoke a near lifetime together. Aerion chugged the last of his drink and began to walk with you three steps ahead of him. Close enough that nobody would engage with you because that meant engaging with him, but far enough that he wasn’t breathing down your neck.
Exhaling heavily only once you two were outside and the cold air nipped at your face, tension was visibly draining from your form. You two slid into his sleek sports car, wrapped in red and gold with a dragon running along the side of it because of course Aerion Targaryen had to put a dragon on everything he could. It’s what he was, after all.
Aerion drives you both to your penthouse in the city that’s twenty minutes away and neither of you say anything during the car ride. Comfort was found in silence whenever it settled between you, nearly two decades of time spent learning each other and when being quiet was or wasn’t the right choice. He leads the way through the parking garage and up to your living space as if he owns it, flashing his personal key FOB into the correct spots.
Jackets are shrugged off in the foyer, Aeroin’s blazer draped over the living room couch while you neatly put yours on the coatrack. He’s toeing his shoes off at the backside of the couch and leaving them there. Each thing is intentional. It’s how he’s leaving a quiet claim, each article of clothing serving as a piece of himself that is meant to mark.
Everything settles in its place like it belongs there. You can’t tell if you hate it or love it.
Loud shhck’s fill the living room as Aerion slides open your backdoor, glass overlapping with glass. He fishes a cigarette from his pocket and a lighter accompanies it, thumb swiping in a quick movement that has a flame flickering to life.
“You should lock your doors before you leave the house. Someone could break in.” Aerion’s leaning against the balcony railing, metal and glass that stops a person from accidentally falling over forty stories to their death.
“If someone climbs up this high to get to me, I would be more impressed than scared.” You hum, sliding your heels off and joining him. His head tilts toward you and those violet eyes of his are on you again.
“Get taken hostage by an intruder, then. I’ll say ‘I told you so’.” Both of you know that Aerion would tear the very world apart to find you if such a thing occurred. Neither of you say it.
City life makes noise down below, but it’s somewhat quiet so high up, filling the lack of words between you both. You’re looking at each other in this pocket of time where everything ceases to exist save for the cigarette smoke curling between your faces and each other.
One of you moves toward the other, although you’re unsure who does it first. Fingers curl into the side of your hip, cigarette still slotted between two deft fingers and you’ve got your hand on his nape. You’re drawing one another in until your bodies are flush, lips parted and breaths mingling together. The small gap between you both doesn’t close.
“Aerion.” You break the silence first, breathing out the Targaryen’s name in a question of something you’re unsure you want the answer to. He says nothing, but his fingers press harder and so does yours.
Years. Years of this moment playing through your minds and it went nothing like how you thought it would be, but also exactly how you two expected. No huge fight—although it definitely crossed your mind a few times—nor some fit of jealousy. It was a moment of quietness that settled between you both like it had a million times before. Lips press together before anything can break the moment, soft for a whole one second and then you’re trying to devour each other.
Teeth catch lip and bite, certain to bruise the flesh for days. Spit pushes between your mouths, tongues tangling and then separating. You push him against the wall of your balcony and he lets you. Aerion lets you and thinks that he would have nothing else. When you pull away with the need to breathe his eyes are several shades darker than they had been, pupils swallowing the violet.
“Do not,” Aerion is dropping his cigarette onto the concrete ground of the balcony, foot stomping it out without taking his eyes off of you, “kiss me like that if you’re going to pretend it didn’t happen.”
Aerion brings his free hand up to your face and slides his fingers into your hair, gripping the strands tightly so that you cannot back away. You do not want to, either.
“I know.” It’s the only response you give. It does not seem like an adequate response to the demand given, but somehow it is. The demand spoke for deeper feelings than just what was offered. Both of them had orbited one another for so long in one specific way that this kiss was fundamentally tilting the axis in which they sat.
Your name was murmured, blunt nails pressing into one another, and you do not push away. You draw Aerion in again and lick into his mouth, drowning any lingering uncertainty between you two.
The internet explodes when a photo of you kissing at a dinner party gets published a few months later and the Targaryen family is very, very relieved that they don’t have to send some poor girl home in a taxi after being ditched by the second son of Maekar Targaryen.
Hello!! It's been a very long while since I was last into Star Wars but I'd like to throw a potential request into the void. If you are down for some hurt/comfort, could I request some headcanons for Maul hearing that his S/O has been killed? However, nobody can find their body. Turns out they did survive, but had to take care of the worst of their injuries before they could return to Maul.
Thank you for your time, I hope you are having a great day. :)
Man thank you so much for this ask, I was so very excited to start on it because oh my god Maul is like a disease, and boy am I infected. This is my first tome ever writing for him, so I hope I captured him well! Please feel free to send in more requests in the future for Star Wars, unfortunately it seems that I am possessed.
Tags: Gender neutral reader, brain damage, severe injuries, Maul is kind of mad about the whole ordeal
Word Count: 1.6k words
- It was stupid of you. Even if you survived, the likelihood that Maul would forgive you for this was low. That wasn’t what you were thinking when you did it, though. Your body had moved on its own, legs pumping to jump in front of the shot meant for him. When it hit, it took a moment for the pain to set in. All you could think was, I’m such an idiot.nMaul was force sensitive, he would have been able to dodge, or deflect the bolt, or— or— something. What you had done was entirely unnecessary. Agony bloomed from your abdomen, then your stomach flipped as you teetered backwards off of the platform and into the abyss below. Maul reached for you, the air around you tightened, slowing your descent, sure to stop it if his attention hadn’t been pulled by the buzz of an inquisitor’s saber and more blaster fire. You were falling again. The last sight you saw before your vision went dark was a lost expression on Maul’s face before it hardened into anger. If you survived this, you were really in for it. You doubted that you’d live long enough for regret to set in, however.
- Hours later, you awoke in abject misery. Clenching your fists, your entire body tensed and trembled as waves of pain wracked your body. Your head was spinning, too dizzy to focus on anything but the white hot agony lancing up your spine. When you landed, you must have hit your head. It wasn’t good if you were out for hours. More than likely, you had a severe concussion, if not something worse. The burn on your abdomen pulsed with every breath, and you were almost certain that your right leg was broken. You twitched the appendage and swallowed a scream. Definitely broken. What could only be sewage lapped at your skin, sure to give you an infection unlike any other. Why couldn’t you have died on impact? The death that awaited you now would be slow and painful. Your head was so scrambled that the thought of anyone coming to save you barely flickered to life, only to be snuffed back out whenever you tried to focus on it. Deep in your brain, some primal part of you begged you to move, to get back home to someone. How could you do that when you could barely think? Blinking, you lifted up your chin to realize that you were crawling. Dragging yourself forward with your forearms, your bad leg dragging behind you. When you opened your eyes, your head throbbed, so you decided to blink slowly to ease the strain. You were moving, but… for how long?
- Back on the platform, Maul was furious at a multitude of factors. Himself, his foes, and more specifically, you. How dare you leave him alone again, especially after all that he had done for you. Feeding you, clothing you, loving you, and yet you forsake that with your own heroic idiocy. Now you were gone, and once again, Maul had no one. The rage that he felt from that fact alone was what fueled his victory, hollow now for there was no one to relish in that with, save for himself. Maul was tired of himself.
- Ever since Lotho Minor, Maul’s mind had been more… fragile. Prone to episodes and hallucinations, driving him to whatever madness that had swallowed him whole. Visions of you filled every leaking crevice of his skull, of your smile, your touch, your broken body laying limp where he could not find it. If only you had not been so stupid. Maul knew what it was like to be alone and injured, and while he would wish that upon his worst enemy in a heartbeat, you were not that. If he could take your suffering and give it to others — he had a few in mind — he would. It was this particular distraction, the broken shards of his sanity, that kept Maul from noticing the spark of your force signature still shining for far too long. Even a second would have been too long, but this? As soon as he realized that you were still alive, everything snapped back into place. Maul straightened, furious at both you and himself, and took it upon himself to find you. It would not take long.
- Splashing dragged you back into awareness. Someone was approaching, yet you could not bring yourself to be afraid. Every part of you was begging for you to stop, to allow death to take you. You opened your eyes, the view blurry and distorted, barely able to make out a pair of boots in your line of sight. The splashing had stopped. A hand prodded at the back of your skull, sending a jolt of pain when it found the wound there. All you could do was groan.
- There was a sigh and the hand pulled back to inspect his fingers. “It seems your punishment will have to wait.” You could make out the whirring of machinery as he crouched down to look you in the eyes. Every blink lasted too long. Maul clicked his tongue in disapproval. “One of your pupils is larger than the other. You will be dealing with the effects of these injuries for some time.” More footsteps approached as people who could only be the mercenaries your lover hired lifted you onto a stretcher. When you flinched, you could hear Maul snap for them to be gentler.
- “I can’t think right,” You slurred, the words bordering on unintelligible.
- Maul hummed, looking both concerned and vindicated. “Perhaps this should be a lesson for you to avoid performing anymore feats of heroism. Especially for those who do not need it.” With those last two words, he brought his face closed to yours, hissed out between bared teeth. As your eyes rolled back into your head, you could barely make out the worry that flickered across his face before he hardened once more and barked for his men to hurry.
- For the next few weeks, you were in and out of sleep. Most of the time when you opened your eyes, you saw Maul at your bedside, his hands folded and one leg kicked out with his eyes shut. He would have looked calm if not for that familiar wrinkle of his nose when he sensed that you were awake. Distantly, you recognized that he was angry with you. Rather than deal with it, you would close your eyes and sink back into sleep again, much preferring to heal rather than take the tongue lashing that he had in store for you once you were cognizant.
- Correction. Tongue lashing was too kind. What actually happened was that Maul metaphorically throttled you with it. Ultimately deserved, you conceded, but you wished that he had waited until you weren’t bed ridden to do it. You may have been dumb enough to jump in front of blaster fire for him, but you weren’t so blind to not notice that Maul was holding himself back. You had been awake more often than not for some time now, and he spent that time either coaxing you into clumsily eating your meals — unfortunately brain damage meant that your movements were not as graceful or learned as they were before — or pacing back and forth at the foot of your cot, muttering to himself. Sometimes, you could make out your name, followed by the word ‘fool,’ with a sharp growl after. It seemed to take all of his effort to not allow his lips to curl back, baring his teeth at you, when you met his eyes. He was furious, yes, but he also wanted you to be fully able to absorb what he had to say when he said it. That, or he had maybe half of a nurturing bone somewhere in his body, much to your surprise. Perhaps it was a little of both.
- After your chewing out was over and you were thoroughly cowed, Maul left you to digest and to get himself in check — he wanted you to understand what you had done to him, not upset you into being hurt (you had already hurt yourself enough for that). Being in a relationship with Maul required you to not only be patient, but willing to empathize and analyze what every word meant. Jumping into anger yourself would get you nowhere, especially when his emotions were already high. While you regretted your decision that got you here in the first place, it was your love for him that drove you to do that. You wanted him to know that. In order for such an ‘argument’ — because that was how he would see it — to be well received, you had to give Maul some time alone to wallow.
- When you finally told him, about a week or two later, his emotional state depending, Maul breathed heavily through his nose, though his shoulders slumped. He sat on the edge of your bed and cupped your cheek in his palm, his thumb drawing shapes into your skin. In contrast with the tender gesture, his voice was hard. “There are better ways to show your affection for me that do not include nearly dying, my dear. I should hope that you have learned your lesson.”
HEYYYY IM THE GIRL FROM THE COMMENT SECTION OF YOUR ORION AND D-16 AND THEIR SUPERIOR FIC!!! i just wanted to let you know it was adorable and that if it’s alright with you i would love to see a part two! 💕💕💕
🩷"INFATUATED"🩷
orion pax x femme + superior! reader x d-16 - part 2
warnings: MAJOR transformers one spoilers, sentinel prime likes the reader too HELP, my cutie patootie oc being mentioned once, darkwing being darkwing electric boogaloo, cheesy stuff once again
summary: takes place during the iacon 5000, and a bit of the aftermath that follows. orion's crush is still very obvious and d-16 is warming up to you.
a/n: SO MANY NOTES ON PART 1?? TYSM EVERYONE 💗💗💗💗 and also a round of applause to this lovely requester here sending the ask that motivated me to make a part 2 :3 sorry it took so long i was busy with art commissions and writing my dark deception fic :( hopefully this will live up to the expectations of the 30 ppl that sent me in inbox to make a part 2 !! if you guys want a part 3 with even more stuff, lemme know in the inbox! it would be kinda fun to make a mini series with this idea for the whole movie !! ENJOY !!!
word count: 1740
proofread: minimal (lemme know if there's any errors!!)
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somehow, you managed to gain one of the best spots in iacon to watch the race take place.
well, it was easy to know why.
sentinel prime himself considered you as one of ‘his closest friend’, so he reserved a special seat just for you: right next to him.
best seat in the house.
it was a very overwhelming experience overall, with cameras all pointed towards you and THE sentinel prime, the fact that you were simply next to the savior of iacon, the slight confusion you had for what you and sentinel were. i mean, you only spoke to him professionally, and those were rare occasions. surely, he met thousands of new bots everyday, yet he remembered you of all bots.
but all of that couldn’t compare to the dread that took over your entire body as soon as you heard sentinel utter the following:
“i’m sorry- are those miners in the race?” the two of you turned around to the giant screen to see that, indeed, there were cogless bots participating in the race.
and not just any cogless bots, bots from your sector!
and not just bots from your sector, it was those two charming bots orion pax and d-16!
your optics widened at the revelation, on the point of transforming to go and stop them before they get damaged beyond repair but sentinel held you back.
“hey- hey, what are you doing??” he mumbled, looking back at the cameras every few seconds to make sure they weren’t focused on him.
“those are workers from my sector!! i-i know them, i have to sto-”
“come on, (y/n), relax! they’ll be fine! besides, think of the inspirational boost it’ll give the other miners if they do win. they’ll be delighted.” he tried coaxing you into relaxing, going so far as to gently rub your shoulder in an attempt at comforting you but you had none of it.
“this is a first in iacon 5000 history!”
“oh primus, please, please, please keep them alive!,,,”
“how are they going to survive?”
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eventually, the cameras couldn’t pick up feed on the tunnel that the majority of the racers, including orion and d-16, were in. the thought of finding them crushed or in worse condition sickened you. with a trembling hand, you quickly gripped onto sentinel’s, who couldn’t help but look smug at your reaction.
“they’ll be okay,,, right?!” you asked him and the prime sighed.
“don’t worry. if they end up hurt, we’ll just send them to medbay-”
“i don’t believe it! the miners take down darkwing!”
the crowd went wild at the display, somehow getting louder than it already was. the femme and the prime watched in astonishment as the miners went from last place to third place in such a short amount of time.
well, now you knew that darkwing was going to complain about that to you for the rest of the work cycle.
you let go of the blue and golden bot’s hand (much to his very visible disappointment) to place it over your mouth. your optics shined in absolute amazement, watching the main screen showing orion and d-16 looking more and more hopeful.
“OHH, MINERS!” darkwing literally roared at them, his fists clenching in total anger.
“great effort, darkwing!” orion attempted to cheer on darkwing for his efforts, but deep down, he knew once this was over, he and his companion were royally fucked.
“t-that worked! it actually worked! you think (y/n) saw all that?!” d-16 beamed, getting more and more excited at the thought of you watching them- watching him win the race.
“i’m sure she’s watching! she’ll be so proud of us!”
after passing the magnetic obstacle course tunnel (much to your relief, poor bots would have been crushed beyond repair), you felt like your body couldn’t handle all the amount of excitement, especially with the announcer going:
“a four-bot pile-up in the magnetic tunnel and the two miners are now in first position! this is UNBELIEVABLE!”
the speechless prime turned around, facing the finish line, pulling you alongside to observe.
from the corner of his optic, he watched your reactions with envy. you never reacted that way whenever he showed up to your office unprompted.
were those two cog-less bots really that important when he’s here?
however, his train of thoughts was interrupted as a shattered piece from a nearly crushed racer hit d-16 from behind, making the grey bot trip and fracture his leg. you gasped at the outcome, praying they were still close enough to make it.
orion reached for d-16, pulling him up and slinging him onto his back, slowly making his way to the finish line.
everyone was losing it, including sentinel, who was on the edge of his seat. will they make it in time?
even the announcer seemed to be overly excited!
orion quickly looked up to your radiant face, feeling another rush of energy flow through him simply by seeing your wonderstruck expression. by the allspark, you looked glorious with all the different lights shining onto your armour.
“one miner is now carrying the other, mere steps from the finish line in the most amazing, sensational, dramatic, heart-rending, exciting, thrilling finish in the history of-”
and all of a sudden, all of it was cut short as a white and cyan mech ran into the smaller bots, knocking them back down. the mech transformers and slid across the finish line, throwing her fists in the air.
“WE HAVE A WINNERRR!! CHROMIA COMES FROM BEHIND TO TAKE THE PRIZE! talk about an iacon 5000 for the ages!”
your excitement died down. sure, you were happy for chromia, she won fair and square, but,,,
you sighed as you watched every other surviving racer fly past the two miners, still trying to see the small mechs as sentinel let out a chuckle, dragging you away with him to congratulate the winner.
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“mmh, they should be right here, miss.”
“thank you, mekastat.”
the pale red and pink bot nodded at you with a courteous smile, walking away from the medbay you were informed that orion and d-16 were in. you let out a long sigh, clearing your throat and before you could knock at the door, you managed to overhear the ongoing conversation.
“we are SO screwed!” you could distinguish d-16’s frustrated voice through the commotion, followed by orion’s more gentle tone:
“i thought you weren’t talking to me,,,”
“hey, look, i know it's all a big joke to you, but not me! i was paying my dues. i was going places and now they're going to bust me down- i don't even know how many tiers-”
“d, i’m sorry-”
“A-AND NOT JUST THAT! SHE SAW IT ALL HAPPEN! SHE,,, she saw everything.” she? no, that doesn’t matter. your curiosity will be your downfall.
with a quick knock, their conversation was cut short as you quietly walked in. orion immediately sat up straight, his optics wide open. a blush (that you assumed was out of embarrassment) decorated his face. d-16, however, didn’t even look you in the eye, his head hunched over in shame.
“hi.”
they waited for any form of reprimand from you, but since you simply stared back at them as to wait for them to speak, orion decided to be the first to break the ice.
“,,, i’m so sorry, (y/n), i was the one to s-suggest the idea of us participating. demote me but not d-16, i practically dragged him along into this.” d-16 turned his head just a little bit at his friend, the tension in his yellow optics leaving just a tad bit.
you thought for a while, looking away and missed the way that even in such a situation where you were supposed to, yes, reprimand them, orion looked up at you like you hung the moon and the stars combined. even in the poor lighting the room had, your armour still shined in a hypnotizing way. at least, in orion’s eyes.
“i should punish you for breaking protocol like this.”
“we know,,,”
“but.” you got down on your knees, still towering over the miners, and with a small and gracious smile, you said: “i won’t. besides, even if you lost, that was still the coolest thing i’ve ever seen.”
hearing that made d-16’s helm rise back up to stare at you with a bewildered expression, matching his friend.
“really??”
you then let out a small giggle and gave them a bigger smile, which totally didn’t make the two smaller bots swoon. “it was amazing! you were both so fast, and you managed to take down darkwing?? he’s never going to hear the end of it! do you know how long he’s been training for this day and he was beaten by you two, who never trained for this type of action?!”
they’ve never seen you this excited, just the sight made up for the fact that they had lost and possibly humiliated themselves to millions of cybertronians.
“if anything, if sentinel doesn’t end up giving you guys a prize for making it this far, i’d think he’d be wasting an opportunity to celebrate true racers!”
“oh- wait! sentinel! what’s he going to do with us??” asked d-16, nearly getting up from the table, stress once more filling his processors.
your excitement died down at the mention of his name. oh, right. him.
“um, i could try to convince him to not do anything drastic! he considers me a friend of his, apparently.”
“that won’t be necessary.” another femme’s voice droned out, one that you immediately recognized.
“i’ll take it from here, (y/n). head back to your post.” airachnid ordered, stepping aside for you to leave. you turned your helm to the miners and waved goodbye, still watching them as you walked away until they were no longer in sight.
as you were about to leave the building, you bumped into darkwing, who despite not having visible facial features, you could tell with the way he was walking that he was still absolutely infuriated.
“darkwing,,,?” you asked and in response, he swiftly turned around, grabbed you by the shoulders and screamed:
“I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE A VERY BEAUTIFUL AND VALUED BOT IN MY LIFE.” and so he power walked into the hospital, leaving you utterly confused.
,,,
what.
wait why was he going in the hospital?
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Extra: AU belongs to @/linkeduniverse I simply put these characters in this situation
— 🌙 —
The next second between the whirling portal and the land that lay beyond was spent preparing. While none had stepped foot in their world, only ever being hunted by familiar monsters, nobody wanted to run the risk. Certainly not after the ghost stories shared by open fire. And so, swords were drawn and courage reeled with excitement for what could lie just out of sight. When the Chain stepped through, however, they were met with dry grounds, dead trees, and massive, untouched buildings.
“Does anyone know where we are?” Warriors had asked. Everyone shook their head, except one.
“Time?”
The old man spared no one another glance, instead racing into an abandoned building with a strange sense of purpose not felt in many years.
“Oldie’s finally lost it,” remarked Legends, nudging Traveller with a teasing wink. One would think they’d placed a bet on this before.
Twilight stepped forward, pausing as a wretched scent hit his senses. Wherever they were, it reeked of death and desperation, which was enough of a motive for him to guide the others after the Hero of Time.
Though, that was never his only title, now was it?
Before it all, he was “Mr. No Fairy.”
By the end of time, he was a hero.
By the end of the day, he was a childish scrub. A volcanic beast. An oceanic musician. A fearless captain. A fierce deity.
But most of all, Link had been a friend.
🌑 🌔
🌒 🌕
🌓 🌝
The mere moment the heroes set foot inside that old fortress, they knew something was wrong. Despite the presence of contentness floating throughout the halls, the entire build felt alive. It wasn’t until a cry of panic alerted to them the cause of their discontent.
“Stalfos!”
Sky, among others, was widely accustomed to the boney fiends, though some, like Wild, lagged slightly behind, and the more they did, the more rampant the monsters seemed to rage. One by one, courage fell beneath the hallowed joy of their enemies. Time and time again, the heroes would miss, and in their folie, the Stalfos would laugh and dodge. No matter their simplistic maneuvers, the monsters remained winning, compared to the winded heroes.
Yet, in a moment of despair and frustration, Four knocked out the ribs of one skeleton he had been targeting since the very start.
“Yes!” A fallen hero exclaimed, others cheering as they saw the sudden advantage. As soon as it was gained, however, an unforeseen presence made itself known. With the crest of a captain and the body of a war-torn soldier, the creature stepped past its stalled allies, picking up a discarded knight’s blade. In its ease, it threw the blade into the hands of the wild hero, a hidden encouragement laced in its action.
Swiftly following this action, Warriors and Twilight alike charged for it, yet it made no move, only subtle noise.
Suddenly, the foe in front of them was nothing more than a hollow husk. Empty, and looking just as dismayed as they felt.
“Perhaps I’ll need to personally train you all on defense against magic.” Time’s voice seemed to bounce around them, only it wasn’t in his typical serious tone. There was a hint of jesting.
When the heroes finally caught sight of him, entrapped beneath his arm was the helm of that ghastly general they tried so fearlessly to defeat.
“You killed it,” Sky huffed, catching his breath against a pillar. His relief only lasted so long, as a skeletal shoulder nudged his own, and he had to stifle a scream.
Time only laughed. “You could say that,” then he turned his focus to the Stalfos—no, Stalchildren—urging them to lay off the heroes.
Legend, who was tugging the fire rod away from such a child, was flung backwards upon their sudden release. “What,” he coughed at the intake of dust and other debris he’d rather not think of flooding his lungs. “Just happened?”
Gruffly, a voice boomed from behind him: “Entertainment!”
He couldn’t stifle a shriek.
Though, who could? That was a floating, skeletal head. Despite an arrow being lodged in its left eye (courtesy of Wild), the monstrous thing continued floating, making its way towards Time with a glimmer of glee.
“You were right, young captain, they are certainly masters of their own worlds, just as you are. And as such, they are useless flailing in a realm they have yet to grasp.”
Time nodded, a roll of his eyes being evident at the taunt towards his few days spent here. It wasn’t till Traveller spoke up that all focus shifted back to the broken, weary Chain.
“Wait, wait, wait! So you have been here before.” He tested the waters (or lack there of), continuing only with a smile from the old man.
Wind, in turn, gasped. “Traitor!”
Legend was in quick agreement, alongside Four, and made for his fire rod, though Twilight was quick to freeze that move. “And who are you, skeletal . . . king,” the aforementioned hero tilted his head, curious in a possible further connection between him and his mentor hero.
“Nobody of your time, son,” the head shook, roaring with laughter. “I am Igos du Ikana, last ruling king of the land you have stepped foot upon: Ikana.”
Then the king turned towards the Hero of Time, knocking around his hair as though to ruffle it without hands. “Until this young man came along. He’s healed not just me and my men, but this entire kingdom. And as such, he is a brother to us all.”
Time, for once, looked absolutely embarrassed, which was only bolstered by a unified exclamation of his fellow incarnations.
“WHAT?!”
— 🌙 —
Personal Headcanon in Relation to this Story: Time spent a lot of time post-Majora’s Mask trying to ease the burden of the curse in Ikana. Though he couldn’t break it, the spirits were grateful for his company, and consider him a brother in their struggles, even teaching him old tactics that he still uses in battles today!
He needs someone who's accepting the most. As much as he loves someone who's fun, or kind, or who matches his energy, what he really appreciates the most is a ride or die. Especially given that most of his friends started avoiding him when they found out, he'd just need that stability. And I feel he could overlook a lot of his other preferences if you just do that. Just stick by his side no matter what, and he'd do the same.
Takara
He's a quiet person, and when he speaks he's pretty rude. But honestly, I think he'd value resilience in someone the most. It's hard to break through his walls, and most people don't try to. So if you get past that and stay consistent, eventually he'd soften- just slightly. But soften. He'd be less brash and more open but only in time.
Shima
Someone with a sense of humor has got to be his weakness, especially if they're attractive too. He'd find it hard to be anything but smitten with you everytime you laugh unapologetically at your own jokes, and even more so his own. Just don't take it too far bugs. He'd still probably forgive you anyways if you apologize and like bat your eyelashes or something.
Bon
I feel like he'd need someone stable. He's a pretty stable person, and of course everyone has their moments but being that calm in the storm would definitely pique his interest. You don't need to be like some fortified 100% solid brick wall of a person, maybe just 75%. But it would make him feel more at ease bringing things up, or talking to you without feeling like he's walking on eggshells.
Izumo
The only way she'd be close to you at all is if you were kind. As rough around the edges as she is *she is* kind. No matter what she says. Her actions have shown time and time again it's a big value of hers.
Shiemi
She'd want someone with a vivid imagination. A creative. Big dreams, aspirations. Someone to inspire her more than anything. No matter what if she ended up loving you, she'd put you on a pedestal even if she knows she shouldn't. But She'd be your biggest cheerleader to your dreams, and only hopes you'll be that for her as well. Talk to her for hours about your dreams, and then ask about hers, and she'll be all shy, but she'd appreciate It more than you'd think.
i dont write quickly, itll likely take me several weeks to a month if not more depending on how many asks i get, especially because of how busy ill be, but i want to write more
i plan to use this as writing practice, ill do oneshots that will usually be 2-3k words long, and i want to focus on rarepairs. I wont accept really popular ships like avott, bloodletting, majorscythe, etc. (basically if theres more than 100 fics on ao3 with that ship, i wont write it)
ill also do fics with no ships! If you just want other relationships or no relationships of any kind at all
i ask that you give me a general idea, be it a specific scenario or just angst/fluff/smut/etc. and specify what characters and relationships if any
HEY! you should send hc requests to my writing blog,, @self-indulgent-hcs-2000 ! I do requests for deltarune characters, smg4 characters, and animal hospital characters rn!! Make sure to check the rules and character list before requesting please :)
